Aurora Borealis
by Ebonclaw
Summary: A small insight into the life of a Khajiit Dragonborn who is not to keen on being just that: the Dragonborn.


**A/N:** This is a small insight into the life of an unnamed (in my mind, female) Khajiit Dragonborn who's not too keen on being just that: the Dragonborn.

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><p>I knew I would not make it to Winterhold before nightfall.<p>

Which meant I probably would not make it to Winterhold at all.

My horse, Allie, had already fallen. She had been gravely injured by some bandits camping just by the road – I had defeated them quite easily, but not until they had managed to put a few arrows in my stead. She had been bleeding quite a lot, but I thought staying where we were would be more dangerous than trying to find help, and had decided to press on.

Clearly, I had been wrong. Not five minutes later we were attacked by a rather large pack of ferocious, hungry wolves. I had dismounted in order to defend Allie and myself, but did not realize until it was too late that staying on her and trying to outrun them would have been a better idea, despite her already being injured.

When I turned around after defeating the wolves and making sure they really were dead, she was just lying there in the snow. For the first time in quite a while, sadness tore at my heart. Allie had been my one companion, the only one who fought alongside me and the only one to keep me company during those long cold nights far up in the mountains. Now her dark hide was rapidly being covered in blindingly white snow, her black but intelligent eyes half-lidded, unseeing.

Turning away from her, I focused my attention on the wolves and what I had to do. I pulled out my knife and started working with slow but methodic movements. At least this was something I knew how to do.

I had far too little weaponry on me. A hunting bow, a few arrows of different description that I had picked up here and there, and a dagger called Nettlebane. Even though it was not very good, I liked it. It looked brutal – and I had worked hard in order to get it.

I held the wolf firmly in place between my legs, placing it so its stomach was facing upwards. Without hesitating, I bent down and stuck the knife right through the fur, carving upwards until the knife wouldn't go any further. I carefully cut around the paws, head and tail as well, and then started the tedious work of actually trying to remove its pelt. I had done it many times before and it was something I actually considered myself to be 'good' at, but you still had to be equally cautious every time. A single wrong cut could mean leather not good enough for making armor out of, or selling.

At least the blood warmed my numb fingers.

By the time I was done it was more or less completely dark. The snowfall had become worse as well, severely reducing my line of sight and making me paranoid. However, I had no choice but continue on.

I left Allie where she was, after quietly giving her my blessing, and sincerest thanks.

It definitely did not feel right, taking her hide and using it for armor, so I did not do it. I knew another pack of wolves or maybe something even more dangerous would eventually find her and eat her and the other dead bodies I left behind – I had no desire for wolf meat – but really, there was nothing more that could be done. She had served me well and she had died well – I could only hope the Gods had a place for her in Sovngarde.

I noticed my eyes automatically wandering upwards, searching for something in the skies, even though all you saw was a great dark blur. Somehow, I had always imagined Sovngarde being up there. Maybe it was because I had always associated Sovngarde with Aurora Borealis.

In general, I did not believe in the same Gods as the Nords did. I hardly believed in any Gods at all. I knew I came from Elsweyr, and that its tropical jungles and vast deserts were far different from anything found in Skyrim, but I had no memories of it. The few things I did know included these facts: Nords disliked the Khajiiti, we were infamous for creating Moon Sugar and refining it into Skooma, and we had some kind of special connection with the giant moons.

The last one I had discovered by myself. Whenever the moons, Masser and Secunda, would rise I could feel hope filling my breast. I felt drawn to them. Not exactly stronger by their presence alone, but at least filled with more courage, like they watched over me.

I could have used that right about now.

I certainly did not feel like the Dragonborn. Killing that dragon earlier, the one that attacked the guards' tower outside of Whiterun, had been a pure coincidence, and mere luck. I had been surrounded by guards and the Jarl's housecarl, and they had done most of the killing. It was pure accident that I delivered the final blow.

I did not even know what I was doing, trying to walk all the way to Winterhold and the Mages Collage. Someone or something – really, I did not even know anymore – had told me to go there and I had scribbled it down in my journal. I knew I should have been on my way to High Hrothgar, to talk to someone called The Greybeards, but I felt no desire to go there. I knew they would continue to persuade me into believing that I truly was the Dragonborn, and that was something I definitely did not feel like.

Maybe that was why I was stubbornly wandering to Winterhold. Maybe I was unconsciously hoping that I would die somewhere along the way.

Something red caught my attention through the raging blizzard. At first I thought it was blood and was on the verge of backing off – I really did not want to get into more trouble – but then I saw what it was. Snowberries.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then I turned my back against them and continued walking. I had no time for picking berries, no matter how valuable potions I could turn them into or how lifesaving they could be once I had depleted all of my other food. I simply did not have time to stand there in the snowfall, picking berries as night fell around me. If it had been any other time, my journey could have taken hours due to all the berryharvesting and flowerpicking.

I detected a cave further up ahead, much to my relief. I did not know how much longer I would have been able to survive out there in the cold, and the cave provided at least some shelter. Approaching with extreme caution, I saw several dark silhouettes on the ground. At least none of them were moving. Yet.

Something must have lived there not too long ago. There were bones on the ground – still bloody – and tattered old pieces of armor, along with a few deer hides and a coin purse, which I immediately took. I figured whatever had been living there was either out hunting for something to eat, or dead. I obviously hoped for the latter.

Curled up against the wall and at least somewhat protected against the cold winds, I stared out into the great blur that was all I could see and could not help but let my mind wander.

I should have been dead by now. I should have died in Helgen, and it would have been a good death. Not good enough to grant me the privilege of going to Sovngarde, but good enough for me. I was never more than a simple thief, trying to survive the day, and I should have been honored to die there, next to Ulfric Stormcloak with General Tullius watching – even though I still hardly knew who they were.

A great roar penetrated the usual white noise from the storm and snapped me out of my inner musings. At first, fear filled me; since I thought the original inhabitant of the cave was coming back, but then a great weariness and sense of hopelessness took over instead.

It was a dragon.

No doubt about it, when I heard the roar yet again I knew my time had come. I definitely could not take down a dragon by myself, now that I had neither Allie nor the guards to help me, and running away in this blizzard was not an option.

I was on the verge of standing up and simply going out there, meeting my fate with at least some courage, when suddenly, the snowstorm seemed to subside. At first, I was sure I was imagining things, but then the snow actually stopped falling. Mere seconds later, the clouds vanished as if blown away by a great gust of wind.

The stars twinkled down at me. Filling the sky from horizon to horizon, they glimmered and glistened in all colors imaginable. Following the most prominent band of stars, my eyes fell upon one of the moons: Masser.

Even though its eerie red light was often considered a bad omen among the Nords, it filled me with something I had not felt in quite a while: hope. With Masser watching over me, I would survive, and not only do that – but defeat the dragon as well.

As if it had been held back by a great godly hand but suddenly been relased, Aurora Borealis burst forth over the sky, almost but not quite covering the stars and bathing everything in a magical light.

The sight made my eyes widen. I did not care what my fellow Khajiit said about Elsweyr; Skyrim was truly beautiful.

And then I saw it. The dragon.

It was circling a mountain peak nearby, signaling that it probably had its nest there and that it did not want any curious adventurers accidentally wandering up there. Well, I heard its warning – I was not going anywhere near that mountain. Like it had heard my thoughts it gave a final roar and then seemed to disappear, but probably landed somewhere up there.

I was not going anywhere near it and hopefully it would stay away from me as well. I had a strange feeling I would be battling more dragons than I ever wanted sooner than I thought.

This one would be allowed to live, as long as it let me live through the night as well.

With the storm gone and Masser looking down at me, protecting me, maybe I would make it to Winterhold after all. And maybe, once I had explored it, I could make my way to High Hrothgar to speak with the Greybeards.

I was the Dragonborn after all.


End file.
